blue haze
by Hidding-In-Shadows
Summary: There are rumors that there is a strange woman who lives in the Fire Nation forest. Some call her a witch, but Zuko just calls her Katara.


He hears the whispers in the streets of his Nation about the loner who lives deep within the humid, bug trap they call a forest. She appeared one day, as if forming from the mist, and suddenly a hut sat within one of the only clearings of the forest, surrounded by plant life and herbs, and small ponds with fish. At least, Zuko hears that in the whispers at first.

Soon, after the stranger's arrival, other stories begin to lace into the once fairytale-like woman. People cross the forest and whisper about how they see her outside her home, whispering to nothing and plucking her herbs. They see her leaning over the pond, giggling to herself as she feeds the fish. They see smoke rise from the tilted chimney of her hut, smell exotic mixtures of spices and meats and herbs. The label from her rises after a young man from the Nation, one known for fabrications, Jet, speaks about how she enchanted him, drew him into her home and seduced him before laying a curse upon him. Bewitched him.

And thus, there is a witch in the Fire Nation's forest.

As heir to the Lordship, he must know about the news going on in the villages that surround his home, the capital of their Nation. He knows about the sudden algae bloom in the western coast, forcing fishermen to go further out in the waters. He knows about the suspected, deadliest winter that is to strike the villages deep in the mountains because of his daily visits to the tea shop. He knows of the recent birth of the first triplets in the Southern coast after a proud father waves a letter in his hands.

So, of course, when he hears about the witch, he knows exactly how to map out the trail to her hut from the various stories and decides to pay her a visit. Afterall, it is supposed to be his future Nation, and he needs to know all his citizens.

He plans to travel in the morning when the sun first breaks the horizon because, although she is in the heart of the forest which is only a half-day journey, he plans to visit the village on the other side for diplomatic purposes. His Uncle, the current Fire Lord of the Nation, ensures the culture of their Nation stays preserved. Thus, he sends Zuko on trips every other week, going from the capital to a village to check on their market and economy, families and communities. Also, it allows Zuko a chance to met his future citizens, to learn the proper ways of a Fire Lord for when he takes the throne in the upcoming years.

He opts to take his favorite horse, a red-chestnut stallion who is young and rilly, but trustworthy and fast. Druk was gifted to him when he turned sixteen, from his Uncle. Once the saddle was tied down, saddlebags hanging full of supplies and emergency items, the sun decided to appear over the horizon, and Zuko left.

He stops to use the bathroom once, stops to let Druk graze twice, and stops to curse at the map he made three times. When the sun is high in the sky, casting golden rays into the branches of the trees and creating a glittering, speckled forest floor, he finds the hut.

It is small, made from gray stone and red brick. The windows are open, white curtains dancing in the wind from the inside. Small, bell shaped blue flowers line the edge of all the windows, and around the home sat several small, marked off gardens. Zuko sees some herbs he recognizes, some that grew within the palace garden at home to attract bees and butterflies, but there's also plants he did not recognize, smaller, duller colored ones and ones that birthed bright, vibrant flowers. And there is a pond, just like the villagers whispered about. It is green-blue and crystal clear all at once. Once Zuko ties his horse off on a near-by tree, he moves towards the pond and gets a look inside. Koi fish swim around under lily pads, along with smaller silver fish.

The door of the hut hangs open, or more so the cottage. It feels homey, and when Zuko moves to the door, peering into the home and tapping his knuckles against the wood, he gets a peek at the inside.

It is one large room, various candles hanging around the home and plants growing in every corner. There is a basic kitchen with a counter, some cabinets, and a heating pot. There is a large fire-place created from red brick, and smoldering wood in the heart of it. A basic rug made from sheep wool, a small wooden table with a few stools, a basket with knitting supplies, and other knick-knacks are strone around the home. A large, brass tub sits in the furthest, right corner next to what Zuko assumed was the restroom, a basic wooden hatch that was closed at the moment upon the ground. Then, there is a bed against the furthest wall, in the middle of two windows. It is large, larger than any bed he had seen, and he lives in a palace. Various blankets and furs lay across it, and there are patterns of furs he didn't even recognize.

But, the most startling fact was that no one was there.

"Hello?" his voice is rough from the silent ride there.

"It's rude to sneak up on a lady," a cool voice comes from behind him and Zuko is startled, but he turns and puts on his best prince smile.

She is younger than him. Her skin is shades darker, a rich brown, her eyes cooler than his, and hair chocolate brown. It's pulled back half-way, tendrils out of her face but loose, natural curls hanging over her shoulders. She is wearing Fire Nation clothes, a red, half-top and short skirt with a long slit in the side, short leggings underneath. In her arms are bundles of wood from the forest. But the most interesting part, the tattoos.

They aren't uncommon in the Fire Nation, but there is only one tattoo artist in the capital, an old woman who has needles and inks of different varieties for anyone who wishes to be marked.

Deep, black ink decorates her skin, creating intricate, dotted patterns of the lunar cycle, the ocean and waves. It contrasts against her skin beautifully, and Zuko can tell what Jet meant when he said _striking me off guard with her chilled eyes_, but there is definitely something different by the cool, blue pools. She isn't chilled, no, her piercing gaze holds nothing but irritation.

"Good afternoon, " Zuko clears his throat, realizing he is staring a bit too long. He watches as her own eyes trail over him quickly, stopping on his scar, his neck, his hands. They flick back up, flashing for a meer moment. "My name is Zuko, and I am the -,"

"I don't particularly care," she cuts him off, rolling her eyes for a moment, and shifts the wood in her arms, "I just want to put this down before it splinters all over me."

"Let me help," he steps forward to grab the wood and she twists away, lips forming in a snarl.

"I can _do_ it, I just need _you_ to move out from my door."

"Of course," Zuko grits his teeth, "I was just _trying_ to _help_."

"Thanks, Zuko," the way his name escapes her lips sends a shiver down his spine and he tries his best to ignore it, "but I'm a big girl."

"I came by because I heard stories in my capital about a new citizen in the forest," he continues speaking as he steps out of the door frame, allowing her entrance to her home, "and as the future Fire Lord, it is important to me to know all of my citizens."

"Fire Lord?" The woman hums as she leans down and drops the wood next to the fire place. "Is that the title of your ruler?"

"You're not from Fire Nation." It's a statement, not a question.

"No," she turns and cocks a hip, crosses her arms, and holds her ground, "I traveled around a bit, and then settled in here recently. I have paperwork if you need it."

"No need," Zuko takes one last look around her home, "I just wanted to introduce myself. I am traveling to the village just on the other side of the forest, so I figured, since your home was on the way . . .,"

She purses her lips, full and tinged pink, as if she were thinking a moment. Zuko stands in her door frame, suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze. He clears his throat and gives a sharp wave with a flick of his wrist.

"I'll be off now. If you need anything, the capital is just half a day's travel west from here."

"I'm fine out here," she hums, "have a good day, Lord-in-training."

"It's Prince Zuko."

"Prince Zuko."

He leaves after that, nervous about the look in her eyes and the way her lips curl in amusement. He felt heat flush to his cheeks, and he glares at Druk as the horse makes huffing noises that seemed all too similar to a horse-laugh. Zuko unties Druk, mounts, and takes one last look at the hut. The woman is back outside, leaning over the pond and humming to herself as she peers inside at the fish. It's not _weird_, and he can tell something sort of like a conversation is happening, but it is definitely different. He couldn't put his finger on it, so he left.

He stays in the village longer than he thought originally, and curses when he hears the sound of thunder overhead while going through the forest a few days later. He felt the humidity grow in the air earlier, the hint of a storm arriving, but did not expect it to arrive so quickly. As he rocks with Druk's cantering, Zuko flinches at a particularly loud thunder crash. Druk hiccups in his steps, stumbles, and Zuko is sliding - no, _launching_ \- from the saddle.

Druk takes a nice crash as well, the horse letting out a noise of fright as he falls to the side. Zuko curses as he hits the ground hard, something inside of his arm twinges in pain. And then, the first drop of rain hits.

It begins pouring within seconds and Zuko is standing there, wet and muddy and broken, looking at Druk who is laying on his side, throwing a tantrum. Zuko knows the horse is not hurt. Druk has taken harder falls, but the horse refuses to get up. Zuko calls him a few names, tugs at the reins, and then gives up.

"If you want to have a fit," he hisses, "I'll be walking back home."

Zuko walks for about ten minutes until Druk nudges him on the shoulder, finally caught up.

The forest is dark as they walk, and the burning pain in Zuko's arm has blossomed exponentially. When he comes across the hut, he mentally punches himself for forgetting about the woman. The village he had visited spoke little of the woman, so she had slipped his mind. But now, as Zuko stands in front of the hut, in the pouring rain, he wonders if the rumors of her from the capital are true. He doesn't think for long, though, because a particularly loud strike of thunder pulls his thoughts towards the moment. He is standing in the pouring rain, injured and needs assistance.

She answers the door after the first knock. Inside, the smell of stew wafts out and Zuko's stomach makes an embarrassing noise. He is cradling his arm now and Druk huffs behind him, nudging the prince's shoulder as if he was pushing the man towards the woman. Her eyes drag over him once and then she murmurs for him to take a bath and clean up while she put Durk in the small overhang behind her hut.

He feels unsure, standing in this stranger's home with wet clothes and an injured arm. He stands there, dripping, until she returns and makes a frustrated noise.

"It's not like I haven't seen a naked man before," she is now poking and prodding at his injured arm, "and I can help your arm. But first, you need to clean up so I can properly look at it."

"I didn't know you were a healer," Zuko is pushed towards the bath in the corner which is already filled with water and he blushes when he realizes it was _her_ bath that he was about to steal.

"In my village, it's common for women to be trained as healers," she explains as she turns toward the large pot that the amazing smell came from. Zuko took this as his time to undress, trying not to injure himself anymore. "What do your people call me?"

"The mysterious woman who showed up one day in the forest," he hisses at the coolness of the tub, sinking in quickly to avoid her eyes. The woman turns around, raising a brow as if she knew his answer was not the real one, "they say you're a witch."

"Oh," is all she says before turning back to her food.

"There's a man from where I live," Zuko continues, not knowing why he is choosing to tell her this fact, "who says you, ah, seduced him. And others have seen you talking to the pond and your plants. They suspect you are a witch."

"And what do you think?"

"I'm not sure yet."

It's in this moment, while he is soaking in her tub and she is stirring away, sprinkling herbs into her pot, that he realizes he doesn't know her name. When he opens his mouth to speak, she answers his question as if reading his mind. "Katara."

"That's not Fire Nation," he feels stupid because he had already known she wasn't from the Fire Nation from their previous interaction.

"No," she hums and taps her wooden spoon on the side of the pot, "Water Tribe. Specifically Southern Water Tribe."

"You're far away from home."

"I could say the same for you, Prince Zuko," she is now rummaging through some cabinets and pulls out two wooden bowls, "though, I suppose not as far as me."

"I travel for diplomatic reasons," he shifts in the tub and looks around for a moment, "I do trips every other week to the villages around the Fire Nation to ensure my people are doing well."

"Nobel ruler," Katara pours the stew into the two bowls and then turns towards him, "the drying cloths are under the tub."

He doesn't move. Instead, he stays in the tub as Katara moves around the kitchen. She doesn't look at him, but her presence is enough to make him nervous. It isn't that he wants to stay in the bath, he just doesn't have proper clothes. After Katara begins eating, sitting on a stool by a window near the fireplace, it dawns on her.

"Clothes," she drops the spoon in her bowl and closes her eyes, "_Tui_. Sorry, I have clothes. Let me …,"

She moves to the bed against the wall and kneels before it. As she does so, rummaging below it, Zuko leaves the tub and reaches for the drying cloth underneath it. He is tucking a corner of the cloth into itself around his hips when Katara hums happily. He peers below his wet, shaggy bangs and sees her standing with a pale, gray tunic and darker shaded pants. Male clothes.

"Here," she walks towards him and thrusts the clothing in his hand, "quickly before your food gets cold."

She is odd and Zuko isn't sure what to make of her, but Katara has yet to cause a serious threat, so he does as he is told. Soon, he is sitting across from her in a stranger's clothes, eating a stew that is hearty and nowhere near spicy enough, and trying not to be caught staring at the women. Closer to her, he can see a faint scar across her lip, another across her brow bone. Her cheekbones are high, but her face is round and full. Thick eyebrows pull together as she looks out the window and into the pouring rain. Zuko can hear the crash of thunder echo into the home. He hopes Druk is okay.

"I think your horse will be mostly dry in the morning," Katara turns to him and Zuko wonders if she truly can read minds, if the rumors are real, "the storm will pass through the night."

"Fire Nation storms are pretty unpredictable," Zuko picks his bowl up, finished eating the meats and vegetables in the stew, and begins sipping the broth.

"Trust me, it will be gone."

Zuko simply hums and finishes the broth as Katara gets up and collects her empty bowl along with his.

"So," Katara says as she places the bowls and spoons into a shallow bucket that is propped on a wooden counter, "you said you are a Lord-in-training?"

"Prince," Zuko shifts in his seat, facing her properly, "A Lordship some people call it. My Uncle named my the heir after his own son passed away on a mission to the Earth Kingdom a few years back."

"We don't have Princes where I come from," Katara turns around, wringing her hands into the skirt she wore, drying them, "Chiefs. Warriors. Healers."

"I've never been to the Water Tribe's, but Uncle makes a point of visiting the Northern Water Tribe at least three times in the year. I keep watch here."

"It's cold," Katara leans against the counter, eyes drifting off as if she is remembering something, "Northern is much more advanced, city-like. The Southern is more … homey."

"You're from the Southern Water Tribe, right?"

She nods and her shoulders relax as she brings herself back to the moment, offering the Prince a weak smile. Zuko feels himself warm at the sight of her doing so, and clears his throat a bit as he looks out the window.

"What about your father," Katara offers for more conversation, "you said your Uncle appointed you as the heir, but is it common for your people to skip a generation? Typically the first born in the Water Tribe takes over as Chief, and if they do not bear children or their child dies, the next in line will be their younger sibling. If someone wishes to challenge the lineage, a fight takes place and the strongest opponent takes the Chief title."

"Skipping around in the family, it's not … unheard of," Zuko feels his shoulders tense a bit as he watches raindrops slide down the glass, "my family is … it's complicated and you don't need to hear my ramblings."

"Just a curious citizen," she hums and pushes herself off the counter, "I mean, after all, your citizens probably know your story. You're royalty and royal families are raised with all eyes on them."

"You speak as though you have experience."

Katara shrugs and simply walks towards the door of the hut where a candle is burning against the wall. She blows it out, killing some of the light in the room. Zuko realizes that she must be making to go to bed for the night. The moon has been out for some time, its silver rays of light cutting through the storm clouds occasionally.

"Do you have a bed roll?" Zuko stands and pushes his chair in, "I think mine is a bit too wet and muddy to use at the moment."

"No, but you can share my bed."

"I … what?"

"Is it odd?" Katara raises a single brow as she blows out another candle. "My people are very casual with sharing. Beds, baths, food, clothes. We are a family, not just some village of strangers. Is that uncommon in the Fire Nation? Sharing?"

"Our traditions are a bit more reserved," Zuko clears his throat and helps to extinguish another candle, darkening the room more, "often times people do not share beds until engaged, or married. And they usually are arranged if they are of a higher ranking. Workers and farmers tend to be more flexible with the traditions, but not royals."

"Well," Katara is contemplating, trying to figure out a solution so she would not offend him.

"I am the one staying here," Zuko turns towards her and gives a slight bow, hands clasped in front of him as best as possible with his injured arm, "thank you for the food and housing. I am grateful. I can sleep on the ground tonight."

"Do royals typically bow to peasants?"

"I never said you were a peasant," he peers up to her while still bowing, "and I understand my role is _for_ the people. It is important to show just as much respect for my citizens as it is for them to show me."

"The floor will be cold," in the light of the last candle, Zuko can make out the faint blush that dust's across her cheeks as she turns towards the last candle. He stands up as she continues to talk, "I have no shame in sharing my bed with another person who needs it. Also, your arm. Let me take a look at it."

She guides him towards the last candle in the room and gently lifts his arm into the light. It's scraped up, the wounds had stopped bleeding by this point, but it was still red and raw and sore. Soaking it in the bath had helped ease the muscles, but Zuko knew there needed to be more done to ensure its healing, and he is the furthest thing from a healer.

Katara's brows knit together and Zuko watches her fingers dance over his skin, feeling for anything underneath. She hums when Zuko hisses in pain as she pokes at his wrist. A few moments later, she scurries off, opening a cabinet and looking through its contents. There is a splash, some draining, and then a cool rag is applied to his arm.

"Keep this on through the night," Katara instructs as she wraps it around him, "it will keep the wound hydrated and open to help the healing. In the morning I can apply a salve and wrap it for your journey home."

"Thank you," his voice is raw and he clears his throat when he notices her eyes peering up towards him again. He hadn't realized just how much taller he was than her, her eyes at level with his collarbone. As they stood closer to each other, she had to tilt her head just _so_ in order to see his face.

"I don't mean to pry," her voice turns gentle and she reaches out. Zuko flinches for a moment when her fingers touch the rough skin of his cheek, hand resting against the scarred flesh that covered nearly half of his face, part of his ear, and curled below his jawline, "but this … how did it happen?"

"Some stories are best for saving for a later day," the words of his Uncle slip out easily as Zuko closes his eyes, trying not to surface the painful memory. His father, angry about Zuko challenging him. His sister, frightened in the corner but a smile on her lips. Hot coals. The smell of burning flesh.

"Sorry," her voice pulls him back and he opens his eyes and smiles as she removes her hand.

"No worries," Zuko shrugs, "like I said, a later day."

There is an awkward silence that fills the hut and Katara clears her throat and suggests they should sleep. Both of them shuffle to the bed, Zuko climbing on top of the covers on the right side while Katara slips underneath the left side. For having a stranger in bed, Katara falls asleep quickly, the sound of her gentle breathing slowly lulling Zuko into his own rest. Before he knows it, his eyes are closed and he feels his heartbeat rest, his breathing matching that of the woman next to him. Darkness covers him.

When he wakes, he shakes off the odd dreams he had about a woman whispering over him, cools hands caressing his body and face. He looks to his left and finds the bed empty and made, Katara nowhere to be seen. Even as he peers around the cabin, there is no sign of the woman. He sits up, and realizes the wet cloth that was wrapped around him in the previous night is gone, and the skin below is unscathed. He flexes the muscles, amazed by the lack of pain.

He was healed. As if it were magic.


End file.
